Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas 5)

“Oh, hell. I just figured she had something to do with the club seeing as she was knocking on that door, rather than your place. Should have figured she wasn’t when she gave me attitude, but I thought you’d finally figured out that a bit of fire could be fun. Nothing wrong with a brat now and then. So long as she’s a brat who knows the rules and has strict boundaries.” Renard winced as he looked at her. “She looks frightened. Didn’t mean to do that.”

Surprisingly, she thought that was real regret in the big man’s voice.

“I’m not scared.”

“What did I tell you about lying, little one?” Saxon’s voice wasn’t really scolding though, more like a caress. The knot in her stomach unraveled slightly.

“I don’t really understand what the two of you are talking about, but I’m not letting anyone spank me.”

“Renard, give us a few minutes, will you?”

“Sure.” He walked towards her. Stopping about a foot away he reached out. She flinched, and he dropped his hand, looking shocked. “I wasn’t going to hit you. I’d never do that.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You wanted to send me to him for a spanking.”

“Yeah, but that’s not abuse. Hell, you might actually think it’s fun.” He winked at her then sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, little rabbit.”

Her shoulders straighten. “I’m not a rabbit.” Sure, she might act like it sometimes. But that wasn’t the real her.

He tilted his head, studying her. “No, I can see that. But when you wrinkle your nose you sure do remind me of one. Gives me a hankering for rabbit stew.” He turned to Saxon. “You need to get me some rabbits.”

“And where do you suppose I can get those from?” Saxon said in exasperation.

“You’ll find a way.” Renard left, grumbling to himself.

She turned back to him. “Is he for real? Rabbit stew?”

“He can make anything taste divine. He’s talented. It’s the only reason I put up with him.”

“I’m not sure even his talent is enough.”

“Sometimes, neither I am.” He moved behind the counter and grabbed a couple of plates and spoons. “Let’s try this pie, huh?”

“I’ve got to get going.”

“Aspen, you’re so tired you’re swaying. Sit for a moment. No doubt you’ve been on your feet all day. What time did you get up this morning?”

If he’d snapped and snarled at her she could have resisted. Would have walked out. But this softer, cajoling side of him was too difficult to resist.

“Five.”

“Didn’t your shift at the diner end a few hours ago?”

She looked at her watch. “Yeah. I stayed behind to bake a few pies. They always sell well over the weekend. And the extra money is handy.”

“Your mom’s with the boys?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for taking her into Freestown the other night.” Another example of him helping her out.

She sat in the chair he pulled out from the small table by the wall. He then grabbed two plates, filled them with generous slices of pie, and sat at the table to her right. “Want a drink?”

She shook her head and forked up some pie. Her hand shook slightly, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

He didn’t say anything so she figured she was safe. She took a bite of the cherry pie. The rich crust melted, leaving her with tart berry.

“Renard is right. This is really good,” Saxon told her.

“You don’t need to sound so surprised.” But she smiled to show him she didn’t hold it against him.